deepundergroundpoetry.com
go tell it
sex or opera. guys who know every mile of the lonesome
highway is hard, or the dames who make it that way.
heavy metal or mescaline hookers –
the subject doesn’t really matter; if you can tell a story
well, & people gather to hear it, go tell it…
every woman has the story of a man in her life: the book
she could write for a thousand pages. it’s the nature of a
woman. one man gets deeply inside of her & festers there
like a disease, no matter how many men say they love her,
even the few that are sincere about it.
a man, by the twilight of his years, has put together an
anthology of short stories, short & sad. we are easily
distracted by swaying skirts, tight jeans, hot pants, anything
that hides a lady’s wet, tender trap, which is the caress of a
goddess sometimes, & sometimes the mouth of hell. the rapture
that lures the hard, sleek stallion that we are cursed with.
if’s that’s dirty, it’s the expression of my impassioned heart.
& what poet has the right to be untrue to his own heart?
the most vicious curse might be the one that wears the glossy
disguise of a blessing; that one female that lingers too long in my
fantasies. I try to fathom her as a whore, strictly the courtesan
who is used & abused in my perversity. but she appears in my
dreams in the achromic gown & sky-chained wings of an angel.
whore-angel.
she was going away, & I knew that. when she did, I would wish her
good fortune from a distance, a far, melancholy distance. I’d recall
our sacred, profane dances, dangerous kisses, even the breakdowns.
the love song we shared in a bistro, most of all.
but I wouldn’t pine away for her, because…..well, hell, it’s just not worth
it. a man’s got to pick up the pieces & move along to the next poem.
still, I will carry that sublime sorrow in my heart for a long time…
Published 6th Jan 2015
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Anonymous
- Edited 25th Sep 2020 3:45am
6th Jan 2015 11:47pm
<< post removed >>
7th Jan 2015 00:37am
a powerful and honest write with undertones of lingering sadness..beaitiful in its telling
Anonymous
7th Jan 2015 00:53am
very honest and engaging. i imagine you smoking a cigarette and speaking this. love!
you know in that robin williams movie "dead poets society" where he is talking about why men write poetry? you are the personification of that scene. you write poetry to woo women. you may not be trying to with this write, but it happens anyway.
you know in that robin williams movie "dead poets society" where he is talking about why men write poetry? you are the personification of that scene. you write poetry to woo women. you may not be trying to with this write, but it happens anyway.
7th Jan 2015 1:48am
John you are the King of a dimly lit room telling of a Bogart type love affair.. this is a great story that really reels you in.. excellent inking with love Crim
And you tell it so well. Another interesting edge to your poetic voice. It seems that some of those seedy encounters are better left to the meaningless, that way the walls will remain unscathed. Perhaps the superficial stance hinders the depth. Enjoyed!
7th Jan 2015 5:04pm
7th Jan 2015 5:26pm
20th Jan 2015 4:42pm
"what poet has the right to be untrue to his own heart"? So true. I really enjoyed this piece, great imagery.
